


The Final Sherlolly Problem

by sssssssim



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 01:14:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9358025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sssssssim/pseuds/sssssssim
Summary: How Sherlock and Molly solved their final problem.From John's perspective, except for one particular part. Evidently, spoilers for 4x3 - The Final Problem.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I JUST HAD TO GET THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM BECAUSE IT HURTS  
> this probably has a lot of mistakes ofgod lemme know

It took a few weeks for the dust to settle. Endless testimonies with the police and the government, a ridiculous amount of home décor shopping trips, gallons upon gallons of calming tea made for Mrs. Hudson, hours after hours spent keeping an eye on Sherlock, countless nights when John fell asleep with Rosie in his bed.

But the dust did settle, and things went back to normal. Well, at least their particular recipe of normal.

John moved out of the house he shared with Mary, memories still too painful. He rented a flat, relatively close to Baker Street.

He spent most of his free time in 221B, anyway. The consulting detective and his blogger were back in business. Sometimes, Rosie was there. Other times, they friends took care of her.

Things were back to normal. Almost.

Sherlock hadn’t spoken to Molly. She talked to John, but never mentioned Sherlock and never brought up that phone call.

John thought that Sherlock resigned himself to the idea that there was no way the woman would ever get over the hurt that was caused to her.

He was wrong.

◊◊◊

It all started with Mrs. Hudson. One night, after the last client left, she came up to 221B with tea and scones. She was chatting, animatedly, about this and that, switching topics quickly.

‘How’s dear Molly doing? I haven’t seen her in ages.’

For some reason, John’s eyes skipped to Sherlock immediately. So he saw it clearly. Saw the way Sherlock froze, the way his eyes instantly went away from everyone and everything in the room, settling on his boots and staying there. And he saw the way Sherlock’s right hand shook, slightly, before he forcefully fisted it and made it stop.

Sherlock didn’t say anything, so John awkwardly took over.

‘I’ll mention it to her, Mrs. Hudson. Have her give you a call, yes?’

He also threw Mrs. Hudson a look, which she quickly understood, taking her leave.

Sherlock did not move until she was out of the door, and the only thing he did then was to put his phone down.

John slowly sat down in his chair, facing Sherlock.

‘You haven’t talked to her at all?’

Sherlock finally looked up, at John, shaking his head.

‘So she doesn’t know’, John nodded. ‘What really happened?’

Sherlock shook his head again, his eyes moving away and fixing on a point over John’s shoulder.

‘And don’t you want to at least explain it to her?’, John insisted.

‘I’m thinking.’, was all the response he received for several days.

John knew better than to further push the matter. Sherlock will come to him if he required help.

◊◊◊

A couple of days later, he got a text just as he was getting off work.

_BART’S. ASAP. NEED ASSISTENCE IN MAKING A LARGER FOOL OUT OF MYSELLF. SH_

John sighed deeply and got a cab.

◊◊◊

Sherlock was waiting for him in front of the hospital. There were no tales to him, so John figured he was controlling himself.

‘We’re telling her?’, John raised his eyebrows.

‘I’m telling her’, Sherlock said strongly. ‘You’re here to…’

John smirked when his friend didn’t go on. ‘I’m here to stop you if you start acting too much like a cock?’

‘Yes, that’, Sherlock said stiffly.

Molly was alone in the lab, and she paled when she saw them.

‘No.’

‘Molly, I-‘, Sherlock tried.

‘No’, she said with more strength. ‘No.’

Sherlock hesitates, but his voice was utterly calm when it came. ‘I need you to know what really happened. Let me explain, and after, if you decide so, you have my word that you will never hear from me again.’

Molly just kept glaring at him.

Sherlock swallowed once and whispered a barely heard ‘please’.

It made her falter. She muttered something under her breath and returned to the report she was writing, but she also said a stiff ‘Start talking, I don’t have all night.’

Sherlock didn’t look relieved, quite the opposite. He made his way to a chair, a little away from Molly, and sat on it stiffly, with his elbows on his knees and his fingers crossed under his chin.

His explanation was clinical and unemotional. It wasn’t flourished, just a series of simple facts, as they truly happened. Sherlock’s voice never once wavered, and he never once looked up at Molly.

She looked, though. Molly gave up on her report pretty quickly, the pen hanging uselessly in the air. Once she moved her eyes to Sherlock, they stayed there. She stared at him as he talked, blinking slowly and breathing even slower.

Molly gasped slightly when Sherlock said that they thought there were bombs in her apartment and she started crying when he went on to talking about the next room, where he had to choose between killing his best friend or his brother.

After Sherlock was done talking, he took a few seconds and a few deep breaths before looking up at Molly.

They stared at each other for a while, making John feel invisible and awkward at the same time, and Molly took a deep breath before talking strongly.

‘You should have told me. You should have told me before you left.’

‘Why?’, Sherlock was baffled by this reaction.

‘Because _he_ did.’, Molly said slowly, stunning Sherlock into silence. ‘Sorry, Molls, I won’t be able to make it to our date tonight, there’s a surprising errand I have to run in Sherrinford.’

It took a couple of seconds for John to compute, and when he did, his jaw dropped.

‘Moriarty?’

Molly nodded, and Sherlock shook his head.

‘That doesn’t matter anymore.’

‘I know’, Molly sighed.

‘Molly’, Sherlock said gently, ‘I would like to-‘

‘Shut up’, she sounded absolutely exhausted. ‘For once, let me talk.’

‘But I-‘

Molly exploded then. In a fit of rage, she pushed herself away from the desk and marched up to Sherlock, huffing angrily and forcefully pushing herself between his legs, enough to be able to push her hand over his mouth.

‘It’s my turn to talk, Sherlock.’, she all but growled.

It took a while, but his indignation mellowed down, and he nodded once, slowly, calmly and stiffly placing his hands on his knees, very careful not to touch Molly.

‘I love you’, she said strongly, but not in anger anymore. ‘You know it, you knew it long before I said it. Now, I need you to understand it, Sherlock. I need you to understand _me_ , just as well as I understand you.’

She took a deep breath before going on.

‘I love you, but I don’t care.’

Sherlock’s eyes grew wide at that, but it didn’t stop Molly.

‘I don’t care that I love you, and I don’t care that you don’t love me. I… I’m resigned to it. I understand it, I understand _you_ , Sherlock. You’re not wired for this kind of love.’

She smiled a little. ‘Not yet, anyway. And even if you ever… evolve to that point, I know you’re never going to look at me like that. You’ll never be in love with me, even if you… learn what romantic love is. And that’s alright, Sherlock. I’m alright with that, because…’

She paused for a few seconds, and John would be lying if he said he wasn’t holding his breath. Honestly, he didn’t know if he was in awe of everything that was Molly Hooper, or in shock of the fact that Sherlock was letting this unfold.

‘Because loving you is a privilege’, Molly finally said, voice a lot lowered than before, ‘that not many get to experience. And it’s a whirlwind that makes my days the tiniest bit better.’

There was so much love in her eyes, it hurt John to see it. So he turned to look at Sherlock’s face, just in time to see a tear falling down his cheek.

It surprised John to no end. He had seen Sherlock cry before, but not in these type of situations. Not in front of a woman. He never shed a tear for The Woman, and yet here he was, looking at Molly Hooper with shock in his eyes and tears falling because of her words.

They didn’t surprise Molly, though. Because she smiled just that tiniest bit brighter, and she moved the hand that was previously keeping Sherlock's mouth shut to his cheek, gently wiping the tear away.

More didn’t follow.

‘Molly’, Sherlock whispered, painfully vulnerable.

‘No’, she shook her head, taking her hand off him and stepping back. ‘Don’t say anything, you just need to understand what I’m saying. Alright? In the hopes that’, she snorted unamusedly, ‘we’ll be able to go back to normal after this.’

She started walking towards the door, and Sherlock said her name again.

‘There’s a pretty interesting body coming through today. Head bashed in, weird markings on the body and I think he was also poisoned. I still have to do the autopsy tonight, but if you stop by tomorrow, I’ll let you have a look.’

Molly took another two steps before Sherlock said her name again.

‘Please be gone by the time I come back’, she said softly, not looking back to either of them. ‘I need to _breathe_.’

She left the lab, letting John alone with Sherlock. As he stared after Molly, John stared at him.

He looked… like he was thinking. Intensely. There were no emotions on his face or in his eyes, Sherlock just looked like he was cracking a very difficult case, an 8 or a 9.

When John said his name after a couple of long seconds, Sherlock sprung to action, getting up and heading towards the exit.

John followed.

◊◊◊

Sherlock was utterly silent during the cab ride, and when they got to 221B, he took off his coat and sat in his chair, still wearing his thinking face.

‘Do you want me to leave?’, John didn’t think it was time for pleasantries.

Sherlock, surprisingly, shook his head.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Sherlock nodded, shocking John for the billionth time that night, so he took his place in his chair and waited for Sherlock to start talking.

‘I don’t know’, was what he said. ‘I don’t understand and I can’t cope with not understanding.’

John frowned. ‘You don’t understand what Molly said?’

‘Of course I do’, Sherlock snapped.

‘Then what?’

‘I don’t understand what I’m _feeling_.’

It took a lot out of Sherlock to say those words, that was clear and it was the only reason why John didn’t make fun of his friend.

‘I can’t tell you what you’re feeling, Sherlock’, John couldn’t help but smile, 'but I can tell you two things. The fact that you’re doubting the nature of your feelings means that you’re doubting the “just friends” part between you and Molly, which… I think that’s saying something.’

‘Not enough’, Sherlock shook his head.

‘Also’, John went on, ‘throughout… the ordeal, in Sherrinford, you were… calm. Focused on the work, you shut off your emotions in dealing with your sister, and you focused on your deductions. You were _logical_ and rational the entire time. Except… in that room. After your conversation with Molly. You lost it, Sherlock’, John chuckled, ‘you completely lost it, because you… realized that you lost her.’

Sherlock hesitated for a few seconds before shaking his head. ‘Still not enough.’

John figured as much, so he racked his brain for a solution, and when he found it, he knew it was a bad one, but it wasn’t like Sherlock had a lot to lose by this point.

‘Let’s do an experiment’, John stated.

Sherlock looked at him like he was stupid.

‘You have nothing to lose, mate, so close your eyes and go to your mind palace.’

It took a couple of seconds, but Sherlock did as asked. He relaxed in his seat, with his hands on his knees and he closed his eyes.

‘Go to the room that keeps your heart. I know you have one, don’t pretend you don’t.’

Sherlock nodded.

‘Who is in there?’, John asked gently. ‘Who are the women that are in there?’

‘Mother-‘

‘Besides your mother and Mr. Hudson’, John quickly cut him off with a roll of his eyes.

‘Mary’, Sherlock whispered next.

‘Push her away for now’, John was hurting, but smiling.

‘The Woman’, Sherlock said after a beat. ‘And Molly.’

Success, John thought.

‘What do they look like?’, he asked.

Sherlock tilted his head. ‘The Woman is naked.’

That… didn’t exactly surprise John, but he was surprised that Sherlock admitted it.

‘And Molly?’

‘She’s wearing what she wore when I first met her’, Sherlock said slowly. ‘Unfitted trousers, sensible shoes, her labcoat and a tremendously hideous jumper with kittens on it.’

John had to bite down a smile. ‘What about their faces?’

‘The Woman is smirking’, Sherlock said slowly. ‘That irritating smirk that shows she knows something you don’t, and that she’ll enjoy torturing you till you find out.’

John shuddered, thinking about how their text conversations looked like.

‘And Molly?’

Sherlock swallowed, hard. ‘You know how she looks like. Like she always does when she looks at me. Soft. And vulnerable.’

‘She’s smiling.’, John needed the affirmation.

Sherlock nodded.

‘Imagine that you are working on a case right now’, John said on a whim. ‘And you need one of them to help you think it through. Who do you choose?’

He frowned at that. ‘Depends on the case.’

‘No’, John shook his head. ‘Uhm, okay. There’s a woman, and she’s in love with her fiancé. But he disappeared. Left her a note that didn’t say anything. The client doesn’t want you to find her ex-fiancé, she wants you to tell her _why_ he left her. Who do you chose?’

Sherlock didn’t even hesitate. ‘It’s a matter of love, and The Woman has never dealt with it. So the right choice is Molly, of course.’

‘Right’, John said slowly. ‘Now the question is, is she the right choice for you?’

Sherlock startled and opened his eyes. ‘I still don’t know the answer to that question.’

John hummed, leaning forward. ‘After seeing your reactions today, and after seeing your reactions in Sherrinford, there’s no doubt in my mind that you care for Molly more than just a friend and your favorite pathologist. There really shouldn’t be a doubt in your mind, either.’

He paused, waiting for Sherlock to answer. He didn’t, really, but the man did nod, which was more than John could ask for at this point.

So he went on. ‘The questions is if you’re willing to be in a relationship with her. A proper relationship, the kind of relationship she deserves. Do you even _want_ that?’

Again, Sherlock didn’t really answer, but.

‘I don’t know how to do that.’

To John’s ears, that wasn’t a decline either.

‘Maybe she’ll be willing to teach you’, John smiled. ‘But you have to be sure, Sherlock. She’s been through too much for you to dive into this without being sure it is what you want. And, more so, you need to be willing to do all and whatever it takes to make it work.’

‘I know that’, Sherlock said slowly.

John nodded. ‘Look like you’ve got some thinking to do.’

‘You can go now’.

The response made John scoff, then it made him laugh. He did leave though, leaving Sherlock in his chair, thinking hard.

◊◊◊

John didn’t have work the next way, so he made his way to Baker Street in the morning, Rosie in toe.

He got into the apartment just in time to catch a phone conversation between Sherlock and Mycroft. That wasn’t unusual.

What was highly unusual was the fact that the phone was on speaker, as Sherlock’s hands were busy, fiddling with his shirt.

‘You have ran out of favors, brother dear’, Mycroft was saying.

‘Last one, Mycroft’, Sherlock countered. ‘You have my word. One final, small request.’

Mycroft sighed, deeply. ‘What is it?’

‘Make sure Molly Hooper has today off work.’

There was a loud silence that followed, Mycroft clearly lost for words. John wasn’t as surprised as him, probably, but he really did not expect Sherlock to make a move so quickly.

And it was clear that he was going to make a move, because he was still fiddling nervously with his perfectly ironed shirt that beautifully matched the color of his eyes.

‘Very well, Sherlock’, Mycroft said, just a hint of softness. ‘Consider it done.’

The call was cut off and Sherlock turned around, not surprised to see John there.

‘I’m sorry, I won’t be able to spend the entire of today with you and Rosie.’

John was smiling. ‘Just this once, it’s alright.’

Sherlock kissed Rosie’s cheek quickly, before rushing off to put on his coat and scarf. But he faltered on his way out the door.

‘Go get her’, was all John said, but it was enough to get Sherlock moving again.

John didn’t need to see his face to know that Sherlock was smirking, obnoxiously.

◊◊◊

Molly was just about to walk out the door the next morning, when there was a knock.

She was rattled. By everything Sherlock told her yesterday, by all that she had told him, by the fact that he will probably already be there when she got to the lab, eager to get his hands on the interesting corpse.

So she was still rattled, when she opened the door and saw Sherlock on the other side of it.

Coat perfectly fitted, scarf stylishly knotted, hands behind his back and a hesitant look in his eyes.

‘Good morning, Molly. Mycroft arranged for you to have today off.’

Suddenly, she wasn’t rattled anymore, but somewhat furious.

‘Sherlock, you can’t keep doing that!’, she may have yelled.

‘I know’, he answered calmly, which only further pissed her off, but he continued talking, cutting her off. ‘It’s just that there is something I wish to discuss with you, and I think you will need some time to think about it after I take my leave. Did you have breakfast?’

She blinked at the topic change. ‘No, I was planning on stopping-‘

‘I got us some’, Sherlock puleld out a Speedy’s to-go bag from behind his back. ‘May I come in?’

Molly cursed under her breath, but she did let him in and followed him into the kitchen.

She didn’t lift a finger, letting Sherlock set the table and pour the coffee into mugs. She also didn’t speak while she ate, and hid her surprise to see that he was also eating.

Molly noticed, that he was eating the same thing as her, which was her favorite type of snack she always had from Speedy’s, but she didn’t mention it.

And when the food was done, Molly waited.

Sherlock, for once, cleaned after himself, putting the dirty dishes in the washer and the leftovers in the fridge. And then he guided her to the couch in the living room.

But he didn’t sit down, opting for pacing up and down her carpet. Molly waited, a bit impatiently. She took off her shoes, crossed her feet, pulled a pillow to her lap.

After a good ten minutes, she snapped.

‘Just say it, already. I’m not as patient as I used to be.’

He stopped pacing and looked to her then, taking a deep breath before talking.

‘You were right, yesterday. About almost everything. I’m not wired for romantic love.’

‘Sherlock’, she sighed. ‘We really don’t need to talk about it anymore.’

‘But I want to talk about it’, he said quickly, which promptly shut her up.

He seemed… unsure. Which was kind of horrible for Molly to watch. She had no idea what was going through his head and honestly, she was afraid to find out.

‘I want to learn’, Sherlock said next. ‘I… I think I could be wired for a love like that, but I have to learn, quite a lot, before.’

That was an understatement, and it made Molly snort on a laugh. He didn’t seem bothered by it, but he didn’t go on either.

‘It doesn’t have to be tomorrow, Sherlock’, she shrugged. ‘You’re still young, there’s more than enough time in your world to learn all about it. All about everything, really.’

‘But I want to’, Sherlock said slowly, like it meant a lot. ‘I want to learn, starting tomorrow even. But I can’t do that alone.’

‘Right’, Molly frowned. ‘You would need to find a… girlfriend.’, she faltered, shaking her head, all but groaning. ‘Please tell me you’re not going to ask me to find you a girlfriend.’

Sherlock winced. ‘I’m not explaining this properly.’

‘So… take another approach?!’, Molly suggested.

He nodded, moving to sit beside her on the couch. He didn’t touch her, but Sherlock did look at her.

‘You never asked how I felt when … we were on the phone.’

Molly really didn’t want to talk about it, but she knew she wasn’t getting out of it.

‘I figured you were frustrated’, she said, ‘because I wasn’t doing what you were telling me to.’

‘I was terrified’, Sherlock said in a whisper. ‘And then you made me say it, and for a reason I don’t fully understand, saying those words to you made me feel relieved.’

Molly swallowed hard, too shocked to say anything.

‘And then you said it, and it hurt.’, Sherlock admitted. ‘It hurt, because I knew I lost you. I won Euros’s game, but I lost you.’

He seemed to be waiting for something out of her, but Molly had no idea what.

‘You’re still not explaining this properly.’

‘Molly’, Sherlock sighed. ‘It’s not about me learning about love. It’s not about me evolving into a Sherlock Holmes that is wired properly for a romantic love. It’s the fact that everything else’, he pointed to his heart, ‘is out of logic. But the only rational thing I can say with certainty, is that I will never learn, from anyone else but you.’

Molly quickly shook her head. ‘You’re just emotional right now, after all you’ve been through, you don’t mean it, it’s-‘

‘Nor do I want to’, Sherlock interrupted strongly, making her stare at him.

‘Molly’, he said around a smile, ‘I wish to learn, but I wish for you to teach me. Nobody else. Never, anybody else.’

She couldn’t speak anymore, her heart beating too quickly in her chest. At least she wasn’t crying, although it was a close call.

‘I know you don’t believe me’, Sherlock smiled a little. ‘And you don’t believe I am capable of being in a proper relationship and treating you the way you deserve. But you have my word, that if you decide for it, I will do nothing short of my best. I will try my upmost best.’

She just kept staring at him. Molly opened her mouth, but had no idea what she would say, because in all the years she knew him, she never really entertained the idea that her feeling might be returned. 

Molly tried to explain this, but Sherlock stopped her with a gentle pat on the knee.

‘There’s no need for an answer now. You do have the day off.’, he smirked. ‘I’ll wait, though. Beyond that, however long.’

He left soon after, locking the door behind him, leaving Molly in an emotional mess.

◊◊◊

Sherlock returned to Baker Street a few hours later, but he didn’t say a word about what happened, no matter how much John asked him about it.

In the end, he gave up. He wrote a blog post as Sherlock read a book, waiting for the inevitable moment when Rosie woke up, demanding to be fed.

When it came, Sherlock took over with a soft smile on his face that he always got in the presence of his goddaughter.

He was in his chair, with Rosie in his arms, feeding her a bottle and telling her a story about a pirate and his adventures in a shopping mall.

That’s when Molly came in. She rang the doorbell downstairs, rushed her way out of Mrs. Hudson’s hold and up the stairs. She didn’t knock, just barged into 221B, rendering both of the men speechless.

Not that Molly saw John, she seemed to only have eyes for Sherlock.

There was some sort of fire in Molly’s eyes, John could see it clearly. The love she had for Sherlock, it was still there, like it always was, but there was something else there now as well, something John couldn’t really read. She also seemed tense as a board and very hesitant.

Just as Sherlock looked, really. He froze with the baby in his arms, looking up at Molly with hesitance in his eyes, and apprehension.

Molly took a deep breath and marched to Sherlock. She was careful of Rosie, but the baby’s presence didn’t stop her from kneeling in front of Sherlock’s chair and grabbing his face, pulling him down for a kiss.

John’s jaw dropped. Once again, he was in awe of everything that was Molly Hooper, in shock that Sherlock Holmes managed to convince her earlier in the day, in bafflement at actually seeing the two of them sharing a propper, somewhat passionate kiss.

With his daughter between them.

He delicately cleared his throat. ‘Why don’t I take Rosie?’

Molly detached herself from Sherlock’s face, letting go of him and smiling softly at Rosie.

‘That’s alright, John’, Molly said, ‘I haven’t seen her in ages.’

With that, she took Rosie from the man's hold and sat down on the chair’s armrest, multiple points of contact with Sherlock’s body.

Sherlock, who was staring at her with wide eyes, his lips sealed shut, but shiny.

Molly patted his head. ‘Snap out of it, Sherlock. You are smart enough to have deduced that there was no way for me to say _no_ to you.’

Sherlock snapped out of his shock, and he chuckled at that. ‘Apparently, I’m not smart enough when it comes to you. But I had hope.’  

The two shared a long look, softer than any before and with matching, adoring smiles on their faces. The moment was interrupted by Rosie finishing her dinner and demanding attention, but neither of them seemed too bothered by it.

Not when Sherlock put a hand around Molly’s waist to have better access at Rosie, going on with the story of the pirate and the shopping mall, and not when Molly was supporting the biggest grin John had ever seen on her face, and she was sharing it equally between Sherlock and Rosie.

John sat down on his chair, snapped a picture of the scene in front of him, and sent it to all of their friends. Sherlock and Molly didn’t even notice.


End file.
